Is Suicide an Act of Courage or Foolishness?
by otavah
Summary: When Valjean cut Javert's bound hands free, he had also unknowingly cut Javert's life to an end as well. It would have been better if he had just left him to die an honorable death, leaving him rotting in the filthy streets like the trash that he was.


Javert was sitting on his bed, up late, with his face buried in his hands; thinking about the criminal named Jean Valjean and how he affected him. He truly didn't know what to think about the man. Valjean filled him with so many mixed thoughts that it was almost unbearable for him to handle. The feelings were complicated and strange, something Javert himself couldn't make sense of half of the time when he tried to think about it. So he tried not to. But it didn't hide the fact that he felt a 'warm regard' towards the convict. He was supposed to hate the man and be disgusted by him: but he wasn't.

He was being contaminated by the criminal, his judgment and thoughts were all impaired by him. If he didn't do something about them soon he would be past the point of no return. At first the feelings started off as just a little prick in his side but over the years the little nuisance turned into a huge battle ax impaling his chest over and over at every thought of Valjean. That first glance in Toulon twisted him.

His recent sighting of Valjean at the barricades unearthed everything Javert thought he had buried long ago. Images of Valjean spanning through many years flashed through his mind, taunting and suffocating him in his small room until one question stayed in his mind: why did he have to see him in the sewers, and more importantly, why did he let the man go? Javert didn't even know the answer to the question himself. It had just felt right to let him go free. He shook his head violently at his own reasoning. No. Even if it did feel right, it was not the right thing to do. Feeling and doing were two different things entirely, they should not be mixed up. He was letting Valjean control him. By letting Valjean go, he was letting Valjean win. Valjean should be arrested. But then again, Valjean _had_ saved his life, and it was his fault that he had foolishly made him a promise to let the man take the boy to back to safety… Anyway, arresting Valjean would not be the wise thing to do now. It had already been multiple _days_ since he let him go, it would be awkward and suspicious to show up at Valjean's door with a pair of irons in his hand. Besides, Valjean couldn't be arrested, so many people would notice; he had touched so many people's lives in a good way. He had family and was a respected member in the community who posed no threat to the law in over 40 years.

Javert just shouldn't have never met Valjean, yes, life would have been better if he never met him. The convict with more compassion and feeling then he, himself. His heart was light, carrying, trusting; much like the man himself. Javert's was dark, brutal, unrelenting. Perhaps it would be better if Valjean should live, and possibly, it would be better if he should not. His life was useless. If anyone should go, if anyone should pay for their sins it should be himself. His life didn't matter. He was told this time and time again by his own mother at a young age, by his peers growing up and by his fellow officers as an adult. He even told himself this sometimes. If he died, he wouldn't have to choose between his beliefs and his feelings; he wouldn't have to choose between arresting Valjean because it was the correct thing to do or letting him live because it was the right thing to do. No choice was needed if he died, only a few seconds of bravery and it would all be over.

After a few more hours of thinking and a bottle of whisky he had finally come to peace with his mind. It was the first time in years that he felt at peace with himself. Pulling out a blank piece of paper and a inkwell from his desk, Javert began to write his suicide note and then went to sleep when he had finished.

He slept for 4 hours and woke up feeling worse, but more sure in his decision than he was the day before. Living hurt too much. His chest felt compressed, like it was going to shatter into a million pieces with just a feather light touch. He was in so much pain, yet there were no physical injuries on his body. He couldn't take it much longer. His whole life, his whole tough exterior appearance was all just a facade. Tonight he would make the world a better place by ending it. Javert could hardly find the motivation to go to work that day.

Everyone at the police department was in high spirits because they had just crushed yet another student rebellion. The young officers bustled about with copious amounts of paperwork in hand, running around and talking about all the action they had witnessed and been part of the day before. The older officers huddled around in bunches, talking about the cost of cleanup and the losses that they had suffered; they were used to dealing with rebellion. Some of the elder officers even smiled meekly at Javert when he passed by, they could see the stress in his face. He had been through a lot just like them. They were all getting too old for this.

Once he was inside the safety of his personal office, Javert collapsed in his seat and covered his face with his hands yet again for the second time in 24 hours. He really should have done it this morning instead of waiting for the middle of the night. His nerves were starting to get to him. To take his mind off things, he decided to look around his work space. Years of his life's achievements were sprawled out in front of him. He had done a lot of work in his life and lot of good. At least he could help others. At one point after digging through his personal affects and old papers he found a box containing uniform decorations he had collected over the years for his service. All his life amounted to was a couple of hunks of metal that he could pin to his chest and show off. It was all just so useless. Javert ran his fingertips along a medal he received for his "outstanding courage" What a joke, a man who had outstanding courage wouldn't be so scared to arrest a criminal he was legally obligated to. He wrapped up the medal and removed all of the other medals, awards and indications of his rank from his uniform and set them in the box alongside the others. It would not be right to wear them anymore, especially for tonight.

After finishing tidying up his office a bit more there nothing left to do. His work as a man of the law was over. There was a little shoe-cleaning kit sitting in the corner so Javert started shining up his shoes and polishing the remaining bland buttons on his uniform, fortunately the day went by quickly after that.

At the end of his last day at work, he went into the head office, placed his resignation letter on his superior's desk and walked away in silence.

By the time he walked outside the building it had gotten dark: night, but still early enough that people were still walking about, children even. Javert decided to go to town for a last meal. he was going to splurge. It was a good meal, hot, tasty and rather fresh. It kept him busy for nearly 2 hours but still not long enough, so on the way back from his meal, he passed the bakery that was about to close for the day and bought a loaf of bread on a whim.

There was so much anger when he looked down at the loaf. It reminded him of Valjean, why he was where he was in the first place. He didn't really even need it. He wasn't even hungry. He had bought it because there was money leftover in his pocket and he fancied the taste bread at the moment, not because he was starving and needed to feed a family like Valjean had. Javert stared angrily at it, maybe the bread was to blame for everything he mused. He took one huge bite out of it as if to show it who was boss and sat on a nearby bench, eating, until the streets were sparse with inhabitants and the cold air became almost unbearable.

Around midnight he got up and walked leisurely along the Seine with his hands tucked neatly behind his back. Slowly along the street he paced, making his way up towards the bridge which connected the fragmented city of Paris together.

With slightly shaky steps, Javert came closer to the bridge that would seal his fate forever, a fate he deserved. He knew according to the Church he would would be damned to hell for taking his own life, but at that point he really didn't care. It was the correct thing to do, it had to be done, it was the only solution. He absolutely had to do it. He needed to. He had to erase himself. Take himself out of the complicated situation he had put himself in by letting Valjean go free yet again.

Thinking about the last few days and the events that ensued, made him realize two things: one Jean Valjean had indeed changed over the years despite all odds. And two: he could not bring himself to arrest this man. All of his beliefs, ideals and morals were suddenly shattered the day he met Valjean, and even more so the day of the rebellion.

The law had been his whole world. He had learned at an early age not to trust in criminals, despite the fact that he had been raised by one himself. Valjean had changed every preconception he had about criminals. Before Valjean, everything in Javert's world was either black or white. Valjean introduced a sort of grey tone, not completely pure white but not black enough to be called dark. Javert realized that he was thinking about Valjean yet again and cursed under his breath. Valjean had caused him copious amounts of daily suffering, yet, he was one of the reasons that he woke in the morning in the first place. "Maybe i'll see Valjean today," was the first thought that popped up in Javert's mind too often than he would like to admit….

When Valjean cut Javert's bound hands, he had unknowingly cut Javert's life to an end. It would have been better if he had just died an honourable death, rotting in the filthy streets.

Ever since he could remember, he had always walked on the straight and sure pathway in life which was known as the law. He realized now that he had been blindfolded the whole time through his journey. Without question he had followed the path unquestioningly because he knew he couldn't go wrong, putting one foot in front of the other and following a path he knew to be straight in sure. Now though, he faced a fork in the road. He had to chose one path or the other. How could he though? The path that he walked his whole life no longer worked, his blindfold was removed and he saw the nothingness in front of him.

Javert let out a curt, melancholy filled chuckle. "Those students might be right," he said to himself. "The law is corrupt-I am corrupt for letting that man go!" Javert continued to laugh and began to ramble to himself louder "I have chased a man for over half my life and in the end I chose to let him go!" He took off his hat and set it on the bridge."I'm such a fool. Valjean did change; he changed me. I would have never believed a man like him to do so! I cannot arrest him, yet I cannot bring myself to let him go free!" He leaned over the bridge and looked over its edge into the void,"He-he deserves to live! And I do not." Javert sobbed in anger. He would have never believed himself to say this, or act this way. "This is what Valjean has made me become!" Javert thought woefully.

Finally standing up on the bridge, Javert put his feet over the railing and squinted at the turbulent waters below. It was twisted, wild and looked frigid. "I'm going to be there soon," Javert thought with a parched gulp. A twinge of fear made Javert's heart skip a beat. Contradictory thoughts and second guesses slipped into his mind and began to make him question himself. Suddenly, he thought about Valjean again and his thoughts started to straighten out. Yes. Valjean. The reason that he was here in the first place. That man. The man who was controlling him. Javert knew he couldn't possibly run away from Valjean ever, unless he did so by dying.

Javert's heart sped up to a gallop. All he heard was it's wild beating in his head, it was beating fast and hard. His vision started to blur in time with each thump of blood that rushed through his veins. His body was his and his alone, Valjean could never take it away from him. Sure,Valjean could steal his heart, his soul but never his body. His body was the only thing Valjean had left untainted, the only thing that he had for himself. Javert would _never_ let it go that far. He could not allow himself to give into pleasures of the flesh. Or Valjean. Only to the river below where it would rape and ravish him beyond recognition...something Valjean would never be able to do.

With heavy boots, Javert slowly moved one foot in front of the other until he was teetering off the edge of the bridge. He felt his weight shift forwards and then backwards and then forward again. Without much reluctance, he gave his body one final shove forward and let gravity do the rest, tumbling to his eternal grave below.

It felt surreal, like nothing Javert had ever felt before. He was aware that his body was rapidly tumbling towards the icy Seine, but it felt like he himself was still up on the bridge, standing over himself and watching himself falling. It was like his soul and his body became was a moment of intense shock when Javert hit the water. His thick wool uniform absorbed the water and weighed him down quickly, his body temperature quickly changed from warm to ice cold. All of Javert's muscles tensed up and it became painful to struggle or move even a tiny bit as the depth of the water swallowed him up whole.

After a few painful moments, everything was black and then abruptly, all Javert's aches and pains disappeared. He was liberated from life. Javert noticed, as he looked down, that his once aged hands were transformed into young, taut, youthful appendages. In fact, his whole body changed and looked young again. It was nice. It felt so free. With the vigor of a man in his 20's Javert turned his head to the left and saw a startling sight next to him. He saw himself bruised, blue and battered at the bottom of the ocean. It was then Javert remembered he was dead. He remembered the previous moments of intense stinging in his lungs that seemed to last hours. He moved a ghostly hand over his chest to try to comfort himself, surprisingly it went right through him.

Javert spent the next few days with his body laying next to him scratched, decaying and irely white. It was incredibly dreary and unsettling to look at but being near his body made him feel somewhat more comfortable and at ease.

It was strange, ever since childhood he had been taught that once someone died, they would go to either Heaven or Hell straight away, what was happening to him though, wasn't the case. He sat in the cold river, wide awake for 2 days, thinking that he would be called over to the other side at any moment. Nothing happened, panic began to set in. He had killed himself, he realized. It was the ultimate sin. Life was sacred and he destroyed the ultimate gift that God had graciously bestowed on him. Normally, God chose to give life and take it away, but Javert took his own life. Was his ghostly state a punishment? Maybe he was meant to suffer an eternity alone.

"Perhaps I am supposed to move from the area of my death," Javert said to himself after almost a month of waiting.

He had done a lot of reflecting during that time but dared not move from his spot, thinking something terrible would happen if he had moved away from his body. After awhile it began to decay away until it was just an expanded heap of black, rotting flesh moving along with the tide. There was nothing left to wait was nervous about leaving his spot, it did not feel right at all, but what other choice did he have?

Javert slowly ventured out of his watery grave to the surface with bustling people around him, which was a bit difficult seeing as his legs and arms didn't feel as solid as before. With determined steps, he walked up on the stairs that led to the surface. Nobody noticed him, nobody at all. 'It is to be expected' Javert thought to himself. It wasn't really different from before..

The place where he immediately and instinctively began walking towards was his workplace. Through the crowd of people in the street he walked, realizing that everything felt the same but, somehow looked different, somewhat similar to Jean Valjean the prisoner and Jean Valjean the mayor. The two were the same man but looked different yet still had a sort of familiarity to them in appearance. Even the police station looked exactly the same when Javert walked past their gates. No one had missed him at all. If anything, the place seemed to be more cheery and inviting than before. There were a bunch of old faces that Javert recognized, people that he worked with for years but no one batted an eyelid.

When he walked into his old office, the new inspector sitting at his old desk looked on edge for a second, looked around as if almost sensing his presence and then immediately relaxed back into his work again.

"Very curious." Javert said to himself: it was the first time anyone really took notice of him all day, even if it was just for a second. He then proceeded to try to make himself known again by, touching the man and trying to move items on the desk but nothing worked so he exited the room.

Policing was a matter of the living, what right did he have to be there?

For days Javert walked around Paris not really knowing what to do. As a habit, he walked to the church near the station house and said his prayers, asking for forgiveness. "God, If you want to send me to hell... I accept that fate. Your will be done." Javert looked up at the heavens. He still wanted to know why nothing happened, however. After waiting a while in the church for a sign, he got tiresome and decided to get out of the church and look for answers on his own. Maybe God was shunning him for his actions.

He found himself walking aimlessly for miles on end, day after day, until he spotted Valjean.

Javert's eyes lit up when he saw him. He saw him wobbling through the streets with a sad look on his face. It was unreal, the man who drove him to die was standing right before him, completely miserable. It hurt Javert to watch. Valjean was suffering with every step, every breath, his life looked so... painful. Soon the two of them reached Valjean's house and with caution, Javert decided follow him in. Javert entered the threshold in time to see Valjean wearily collapsed in his chair. "Poor man," he whispered out loud.

"Is someone there?" Valjean asked.

Javert froze.

Valjean's head rose and then suddenly, the two locked eyes. Javert's ice-cold glare met with Valjean's warm loving, and inviting eyes and melted.

. He took a moment and then blinked "Oh, It's you Javert," Valjean said with perfect calmness still locking eyes with him. "I guess the demons of my past have finally come to haunt me."

Javert's mouth opened and he blubbered like a fish before swallowing harshly. "You. You can-. But why-. Am I.. Valjean? Is this-." Before he received an answer Cosette and her husband Marius burst in the room.

"Papa!" shouted the girl and Valjean immediately looked from Javert towards his daughter. They had a long conversation after that, only once did Valjean make eye contact with Javert during it, as if to say, "Hold on, i'll be with you in a second."

Javert watched as he just sat in his chair and chatted with Cosette and Marius, totally engrossed in the conversation. From what Javert could tell, they were talking about the whore from Montreuil-sur-Mer, the mother of the girl. The girl had not known about her it seemed.

Just at the threshold Javert stood during the whole conversation. He watched Valjean talk on and on, he was growing weak and tired. He decided to rest his eyes for a bit. When Javert opened up his eyes he saw a bright angelic figure in the living space directly behind Valjean. Nobody in the room seemed to notice. Valjean's eyes looked heavily at his daughter with all his remaining strength and he tried to carry on the conversation that they were having. On the other hand, Javert was staring wide eyed at the bright white figure. It seemed to be a woman, she was breathtakingly beautiful and it felt like he had seen her before. Somewhere. Javert gasped, realizing who she was: The whore, the girl's mother. She held a hand out to Javert.

"Won't you come with us?" the woman asked.

"Us?"

There was a bright explosion of light that knocked Javert to the floor."Yes, us." came another voice. It was Valjean's. Javert realized that he was dead. the boy had stopped talking and the girl was crying. His essence was brilliant and shining just as much as the whore's. It was so beautiful he wanted to cry.

"I can't." replied Javert

"Why not?"

"I don't deserve it. I don't deserve happiness. I don't deserve you. I can not go where you go."

Valjean looked sad. "Please," he whispered, eyes welling up. "I want you to come. I need you."

Javert scoffed, "You despise me and I you." He had purposely just told a lie. He loved Valjean. "We are different people Jean Valjean." He spat the name out with distaste, not used to saying it outloud. "Where you go, I will not follow. No more. I will follow you no more! Isn't that what you wanted!?"

Valjean had been consuming Javert's soul until the very moment that he hit the water. Death should have released him, but it didn't. Now, in his final moment, Javert would not give Valjean the satisfaction of getting his way. All he had left in the world was the ability to deny Valjean, and he would use it, even if it cost him. He would not let Valjean change his mind and certainly not! Even though he so craved to be near him, he would not give in.

"I just-please. Javert I need you need to-"

"You do not need me to do anything. I have already done it. I gave you your freedom at the cost of mine."

"It wasn't the same. I did not ask you to become my angel of mercy, Javert. I did not ask for you to kill yourself. I was alright with you arresting me, I told you so after I rescued the boy." Javert reddened. With fury or embarrassment, he knew not. "You only prolonged my life a few months at most. See, I died that day. I lost my daughter and I lost you. What purpose did I have of living when my whole world as I knew it disappeared. I was counting on you to arrest me, then I read the paper and realized you were dead and then Cosette was to be married. I suppose I just didn't have it in me to live after that there was no reason. I have done all that I needed to do. But now I find you here, still on this earth and I know that there is one last thing I can do for you. Please come with us, my dear inspector.

"I will not." Javert said again almost breaking down. "My place is here."

Valjean made his way towards Javert and touched him.

Javert's eyes slowly opened, he was surrounded by pure warmth and love. He felt like he never felt before. He felt whole and it was good. He took one more glance down back on earth. The boy and the girl were still leaning over Valjean's body, weeping.


End file.
